Tuesday, 11 September 2007

The Princess and the Palace

One sunny afternoon after nursery I take my daughter to Kensington Palace. We drive past it every day in the car and I have seen the bouquets through the trees. A decade ago I went to have a look at the reef of flowers circling the palace and took a swim in the sadness. Before marriage, before children. I could have stayed forever surrounded by such melancholy.

I had asked my daughter if she wanted to see the Princess’s Palace. She shot back her “yes” so fast that it made me smile. What could interest her more than a trip to a princess’s palace? “Which princess?” she asked. “The princess who died ten years ago. I replied. “What happened?” “She died in a car crash.” I said. “I think it’s right to tell the truth about these things. You can’t go wrong telling the truth. It’s when you don’t that the trouble starts. I have no problem telling my daughter about death. There’s only one I couldn't tell her about. And that’s probably just because I can’t yet face the chronology of life myself.

The sun bears down on us as we park near to the park gate and walk in. It is a little like approaching a palace. All paths lead there. It looms as you walk among the trees. We stand looking at the pictures and the flowers for a while and are then drawn through the open gates.

“So the princess died and everyone put flowers on the railings so they could get happy again?” my daughter asks. “Yes” I say. I find she often puts things better than I can.

I cheat, taking her to the shop rather than paying the money to go on the tour. She is fascinated by the jewellery on offer, the pictures of the princess in her tiaras. We argue when I won’t buy her a princess doll. It’s a rule I have not to buy something at every place we go to.

I think she is a bit disappointed overall; expected something more. Certainly a toy. Once she has got over her sulk she asks “Did the princess have a fairy godmother?”

“I don’t think so” I say, “Not a fairy one anyway”.

She looks dispirited for a moment and then brightens and runs off into the shade of the trees.

"Child is the father of man." Whoever said that wasn't very wrong, I daresay.

Thinking about Princess Diana's death brings back so many memories, not all linked directly to her death. It's.. weird. I just hope the little one will grow up to understand why the Princess in the Palace was loved as much as she was.

My daughter cried bitterly at a picture of the Queen in an ordinary hat and coat. Life is so sparkling and glittering with promise for them - I hate to feel they're doomed to disappointment. But then, I'm another melancholic!

oohh you could have bought your daughter a rubber at the very least. you did take her to the shop afterall. oops sorry, too much cider for me, i will shut up.

kids are amazing though. i remember i had to analyse a painting in my history of art OU course and i showed the painting to some of the kids (7 year olds) i used to teach at school and asked them what they thought and one of the kids came out with the most amazing thing that I hadn't even seen/thought of and my tutor was well impressed when i passed the comment off as my own.

Morning SAHD, sorry about my comment... i hope i don't turn into one of these parents who completely spoils their child and buys them everything. it could easily happen. I keep buying Betty stuff now that she doesn't need and she isn't even asking for it! tom despairs sometimes. i always manage to come up with a concrete argument why betty needs a new toy etc. (Betty doesn't even like toys - she prefers boring random colourless household objects). i need to take note.

Lovely that you are buying the doll though - imagine owning a doll from a princess's palace - your daughter will cherish it and love it!

Lovely. Lovely because we can briefly dip back into our own childhoods whilst our own kids enjoy theirs. When I was in England recently I took my kids to London for a day, my youngest was especially enthralled by Buck Palace: ''oh wow mama, to think the Queen is just there'' she said, pointing at the palace. Kids infect us with their unininhibited joy of a thing, otherwise we'd become jaded old cynics.

She sounds like such a little sweetie. I love your policy to NOT buy something at every place you go to, we have the same rule. Please, please would you add a email notification button to your blog so I don't have to worry about missing any of your posts? You can get one by following the link from my blog.

I so agree with you re telling children the truth, although in many ways, they actually " amass" the truth for themselves. I know I did as a child, often hiding under the table listening to grownup converstations or reading people's expressions or listening to the timbre of their voices...

After a recent trip to New York City, my wife and I realized that the person who had the most fun was our 8 month old daughter. She didn't get stressed out by everything, she just watched the world go by...

The world lost a one-of-a-kind soul on that day. I remember my parents were in London the day that happened and it was very difficult for them after they returned to the states, I think they were feeling more connected, in a way, than others over here.

I would quite like to know about your superpowers. I've often suspected that men have powers of which we are not aware, and all that 'i can't find the jam in the fridge' routine is just a ruse.(been drinking, should never blog when drinking ;-)) Look, when i do the smiley face followed by the close bracket sign, it looks as tho i have a double chin. Sigh.